


Bésame Mucho {Only Forever}

by rixie_rhee



Series: In the Mood [13]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, Love, Slightly Smutty, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rixie_rhee/pseuds/rixie_rhee
Summary: The whites show all the way around Rissy’s enormous eyes. She can’t force the words out of her mouth. He’s ready to help her, to say something to make it easier, because no matter what’s about to happen, Nix loves her. She backs away as far as she can, until her bottom knocks against the desk and she can go no further. The silence pounds in Nix’s ears. He can’t find the words and neither can she, so they stare at each other from opposite sides of the room. Her fingers twist over the handles of her bag, she takes a deep breath and sets it down on the desktop without looking.He double-takes when her palms settle on her belly, highlighting the slight but definite curve between them. Nix’s head swims, all the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room. His jaw literally drops and the thought that he must look like a trout flashes through his mind. What an odd thing to think. His teeth click together, he nearly bites his tongue.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: In the Mood [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/871698
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Bésame Mucho {Only Forever}

Nix has exactly one photograph of himself, Kathy, and the baby they had together. He keeps it tucked somewhere at the bottom of his footlocker. The only reason he still has it is because of the little boy. He never showed that photo to anybody, not even Dick. Rissy certainly didn’t need to see Nix’s arm around Kathy, or the way she posed, tucked close to his side with her hand on his chest. Kathy knew how to take a picture. They looked like a perfect little family of three: a husband in uniform, a devoted, smiling wife, and a bouncing baby boy. Appearances can be deceiving, though.

He and Kathy had smiled and kept their arms wrapped around each other’s waists in front of the camera, the whole time they were in the photographer’s studio, and even outside on the sidewalk. That changed as soon as they got in the taxi. Kathy’s expression soured and Nix was peevish and tired, before long they were arguing. Kathy wasn’t any kind of saint, but he wasn’t either, he had to give her that. Even the baby started to fuss and it grated on Nix’s nerves. He got out blocks away from home in search of a place where no one would nag him--or be disappointed in him--and didn’t go home until the wee hours.

He heard his son as soon as he got in the door, not exactly crying but on his way there. It was only quiet fretting, not loud enough to wake anyone. All the lights were off, so Nix made his way down the hall in the dark. He picked his baby up and rocked him, murmuring lullabies under his breath until his son’s warm little body was heavy with sleep. He only noticed Kathy watching from the doorway after he put the baby back in his crib. She held out her hand and he took it. She led him down to their room and to their bed, and climbed in after him. The next day was better, and the one after that, but it didn’t last. It never did. Somehow they seemed too much alike and too different at the same time.

It was true that he hadn’t exactly been sorry to say good-bye to Kathy on the cool, pearl-grey morning he left her for the last time in New York. It was the final good-bye in their series of farewells; he wouldn’t have leave again until he was on the wrong side (or the right side, depending on your view of things) of the ocean. Things had been prickly--and that’s being kind. He should be more than cheerless, and it must be wrong to be relieved. It was a different matter with the kid. Nix wanted to pick him up and hold him long and tight and close enough that they’d both still feel it later. He wanted to stretch the moment out and keep it. It was hard to swallow the lump that rose in his throat when Kathy took the baby back. The baby would be a child before Nix could see him again, should they both be so lucky. For that he was sorry.

Nix kissed Kathy good-bye, kissed his son’s forehead, and kissed his wife again. He waved from his window, said his ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I’ll miss you’s’ to which Kathy replied dutifully. And maybe genuinely, because they did love each other--or at least, they used to, or thought they did--and now was not the time to sort that out. Maybe Nix meant it in a vague sort of way, too, but it also felt like they were merely filling the clearly defined roles they were expected to take. He wasn’t sure anymore.

Nix left New York a few photos and a handful of memories of his kid. That wasn’t his fault but he still felt guilty. He could have made more of an effort but he didn’t. He’s not exactly sure what he could have done that he didn’t do, but there must have been something. There always is.

The train started to move and Nix settled in his seat, alone in the crowded car. He was relieved to be accountable for no one but himself. He could do as he liked--within parameters, of course--without garnering disapproval from a wife or father. He didn’t know a single man there, as far as they knew he was just another officer. There was more than enough bullshit to deal with in the Army, but at least it seemed like _honest_ bullshit. Or at least, most of it did. Well, some of it did. At first.

And then he met Rissy. The situation wasn’t ideal--it still isn’t ideal--but, Jesus, that girl…To her, ‘Nixon’ was his last name, there was no other significance, no dollar signs, no connections attached. She liked him as he was. And what could be more valuable than that?

* * *

Nix boarded that train nearly two years ago, and everything that’s happened since has shaped him into a different man. This particular afternoon in the spring of 1945 found Nix looking out a window, grousing to Dick about something or other. Nothing special about it at all, until someone told him Rissy was downstairs. Dick laughed at the grin that almost split Nix’s face.

He told Dick to shut up and he responded that he hadn’t said anything, but by then Nix was already gone, taking the steps two at a time.

He went up to her ready to sweep her right off her feet and kiss her, but his heart sunk before he got the chance. The way Rissy greeted him was all wrong. She wouldn’t let him get his arms around her, and that was something that had never happened before, not ever. You would think she’d be all smiles to see how thrilled he was to see her, but she looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights instead. She stammered out that she wanted to talk to him and her words left him cold. For the first time he dreaded being alone with her. Whatever she had to say didn’t seem likely to be anything he’d want to hear. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him whatever she had to say in front of anyone else, but he took her to his room anyway. His heart was beating in his ears when he shut the door.

As soon as the latch clicked home, Nix turned to Rissy with trembling lips. He shut his eyes and reached blindly to cup her face with shaking fingers. He was afraid that her mouth would be still and unyielding under his, or worse, that she’d turn her face away. He wouldn’t try to stop her if she did, he’d let her, but he didn’t want to see it. Instead, Rissy kissed him back and clasped her arms around his neck, even though she held herself awkwardly far away. He still found that hopeful. A girl wouldn’t kiss you like that if she was about to break up with you. No one would come all this way to do that, right? He felt a little better, but then she pushed him away with her palm on his chest. He could still feel the warmth when her hand fell back to her side. She looked scared and determined and sad all at once and a lump rose in his throat. Rissy might do just that, come say it in person, instead of writing or calling on the telephone. She would think it was only right to tell him face-to-face.

Sweat started prickling in Nix’s armpits and his throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow. He was sure Rissy was about to tell him that she was sorry, so sorry; oh, he hadn’t done anything wrong, she’d realized--he could hear it in his head, the imagined words rang in his ears. After all, hadn’t he said the same thing to her once? He thought that was hard, he didn’t want to lose her but he didn’t want to be her ruin either. As bad as that was, it’s a thousand times worse on the other side.

* * *

The whites show all the way around Rissy’s enormous eyes. She can’t force the words out of her mouth. He’s ready to help her, to say something to make it easier, because no matter what’s about to happen, Nix loves her. She backs away as far as she can, until her bottom knocks against the desk and she can go no further. The silence pounds in Nix’s ears. He can’t find the words and neither can she, so they stare at each other from opposite sides of the room. Her fingers twist over the handles of her bag, she takes a deep breath and sets it down on the desktop without looking.

Rissy’s stubborn, thrust-out chin trembles. Tears gather in her eyes, held back by sheer will if we’re being generous and obstinance if we’re not. Hectic, pink splotches hide her freckles. Her full lips--lips he’s kissed more times than he can count--part slightly but she doesn’t say anything. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. Her hands flutter; the movement catches Nix’s eye. He double-takes when her palms settle on her belly, highlighting the slight but definite curve between them. Nix’s head swims, all the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room. His jaw literally drops and the thought that he must look like a trout flashes through his mind. What an odd thing to think. His teeth click together, he nearly bites his tongue.

He’s seen her dressed and naked and every state in between God only knows how many times. Granted, that hadn’t happened since he surprised her in Paris, back in February, nearly three months ago, but he still remembers. There are certain memories he replays in his mind when--well, that doesn’t matter now. She’s gained a little weight since then--thank God, she’d been too thin all winter--even though rationing doesn’t allow enough food for that. Only in her belly, though--and her bust. She had been in Paris, and you could get things there that you couldn’t elsewhere, either that or--And hadn’t she complained about feeling sick in the morning that weekend? He found her crouched in front of the toilet, and she laughed it off, embarrassed…They’d gone out the night before, had a great time in fact, but she hadn’t drunk enough to be sick the next day. Nix’s eyes went wide as it all fell into place. Oh, shit, they hadn’t been as careful as they could have been or as they used to be…They’d gotten lax about it after a lot of fun and no consequences.

They never had so much as a scare. It had started to seem like it couldn’t happen. Obviously, that hadn’t turned out to be true. And Rissy, his girl who he loves, has been worrying all alone, without him. She came all the way here to tell him, and now she’s so scared she’s shaking.

Rissy stammers out an apology that breaks his heart. No wonder she wouldn’t let him hug her. Her huge, pleading eyes cling to his face while she tells him she’d never try to trick him or trap him, or ask him for anything. She only wanted him to know, so he could make his own decisions. She’s at the edge of panic--he needs to say something. Oh God, what if she thinks he’s angry or disappointed, or that he regrets…It dawns on Nix that she’s afraid of the same thing he was. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He needs her to stop for a breath he can tell her. Rissy babbles on, hardly taking time to breathe, the way she does when she’s nervous--or scared out of her mind.

Nix isn’t sorry, not in the way she thinks he might be. He loves her, so it only follows that he’ll love their baby. There’s nothing to worry about but logistics--well, almost nothing. Nix doesn’t think he’s been much of a father to the child he already has. That might not be through any fault of his own and, at the very least, no one could blame him for not being there--He’ll do better this time.

Rissy’s tears threaten to spill over, she apologizes for the third or fourth time, and Nix can finally do something. He crosses the room in about three strides and stifles her flood of words with his lips. The words he whispers are true; he isn’t sorry at all, not one little bit. Worried, concerned, yes; sorry, no. After all, the ring is already tucked away in his desk drawer. He’s had it for quite a while, since before he got Kathy’s letter. He’d seen it and knew it was perfect, and bought it even though he was only almost sure Rissy’d say yes. There’s no reason to be worried her answer would be anything but ‘yes’ anymore, not because of the baby, because she wants Nix, every day of her life, warts and all, world without end, amen.

He would have married her months ago if it had been possible. He could’ve proposed the night of their impromptu picnic back in England. She’d pulled out that damn can of peaches with a straight face-- other than the one raised eyebrow--she snuck into his tent with him and tumbled onto the cot underneath him. When that was done, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead. She must love him almost as much as he loves her. God, he’d known it way back then without recognizing it at all. Poor girl, he had to make her believe that it would be alright. Even if he’d only realized it today himself.

So Nix does the only thing he can think to do; he holds her so close he can feel her heart racing against his ribs and her quivering lips at his throat. He whispers love words, he pulls her into his lap, asks questions and listens to her answers, touches her belly with awe on his face, makes her laugh, makes her feel safe and wanted and loved. The only thing that has changed, besides everything, is that he loves her more. Then he takes her to his bed and loves her there. When that’s done and they’re both satisfied and sleepy, he tucks her in and reluctantly gets up and puts his clothes back on.

* * *

She’s almost asleep when there’s a knock at the door, a polite rap of knuckles, two quick taps, a pause, then two more. It’s the same every time.

Dick looks like he’s bracing himself for something. He blinks when Nix pulls the door open, surprised to see him sober and relatively calm.

“Everything okay?” Dick peers at Nix, probably expecting blood-shot eyes and the stench of whiskey. There isn’t any of that. Nix hasn’t felt this sober in a very long time. He’d been a thorn in Dick’s side in the months since Rissy went to Paris, either mooning about her or drunk and complaining that she wasn’t there, or just drunk and complaining.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Nix answers. Dick’s brow furrows and he nods upwards, looking past Nix into the room, asking the question without words. Nix swallows hard and studies the floor. “Uh, she’s pregnant.” He can’t look up. Heat creeps up his face, staining his cheeks; his hand goes to the back of his neck in the gesture that is almost always a tell for defensiveness or vulnerability. This is more on Rissy’s behalf than on his own. She’s a good girl but she’s still human. Nix knows--in generalities, no specifics--that she did a few things she’s not exactly proud of after her husband died. He doesn’t think she did anything wrong, but he can understand that why she wouldn’t want anyone to know. Admittedly, anyone looking at their situation from the outside might see a girl pregnant by a man with money--and a wife--as shameful, indecent, dirty and cheap. They wouldn’t know it isn’t that way at all.

“What?!”

“She’s having a baby. She’s sleeping in there. C’mon, let’s go.” His voice is pitched low, Dick’s lowers, too.

“No wonder she looked so nervous, she must have been worried sick.” They fall in step on the way downstairs to yet another briefing.

“She was scared to tell me.” Nix is about to say more but they’re not alone any longer. This is one thing that can’t stay a secret, soon it will be all too apparent that Rissy is pregnant and everyone will know he’s the one who got her that way. He needs to figure out what to do before that happens. He wants to get the ring on her finger before anyone else knows about the child in her belly. That’ll make her feel a little better. More secure.

Nix doesn’t see anything in front of him, instead he follows Dick who does not steer him wrong. He accepts the tiny coffee cup and takes the chair next to his friend. He pulls a pencil out of one of his pockets, more to have something to fiddle with than anything else.

Stupid briefings. It’s hard to pay attention. They’re almost meaningless now and that makes it worse. He has so much to do. Phone calls to make. Rissy’ll need to see a doctor. Is it alright for her to be working? She can’t be getting enough rest. She shouldn’t be around blood and wounds and sick people if she’s pregnant, should she? And their baby, is he or she alright, too? Nix sighs in exasperation; several heads turn toward him. He shakes his head and looks down at his hands.

He glances at his friend. Dick looks like he’s paying studious attention; Nix knows he must look like his mind is a million miles away. He taps his pencil on the table. He’s fidgeting, itching to move.

Dick's elbow digs into Nix's ribs and he whispers out of the side of his mouth. “Congrats, Nix.” So his mind is wandering, too.

Nix gives him a half-smile. He’s overwhelmed but glad; now he wants to get things settled. The situation with Kathy won’t be a problem; it’s all done but the paperwork. There’s nothing to do on that front anyway. The way it shook out, she can’t even be too angry; the divorce was her decision. They’ll never need to have the conversation that would only end in arguments and accusations, though they wouldn’t be undeserved. He wasn’t a good husband any more than she was a good wife. They never should have gotten married in the first place.

It’ll be different with Rissy. And of course, he’s changed, too. He’s a good…boyfriend, though that word seems ridiculously inadequate. How do you learn to be a father? A dad? There’s a difference between the two. Most of his own experience consisted of short visits; he’d hardly lived with his kid. His own father hadn’t been an example of the sort of parent any child should have.

Nix starts to sigh again and attempts to turn it into a cough.

It’ll all be fine. He was already planning on asking her the question--he hadn’t figured on a baby right now, but it’s been Rissy practically since the night they met, if he’s being honest. And they would have had kids eventually, right? It’s a miracle she didn’t end up pregnant before. Nix’s head hurts; he rubs his temples. He wants a drink. He wants to get up out of this damn chair and move, burn off his nervous energy. All he wants in the world is a shower and a drink. And Rissy, who is currently in his bed, dressed in nothing but his white cotton undershirt. When the briefing is mercifully, finally over and everyone is shuffling out of the room he has to restrain himself from pushing his way through the door.

He’s on his way down the hall, long strides eating the distance between him and his girl. He’s so caught up in his swirling thoughts that he startles when Dick corrals him into an empty room.

“Are you alright?” A worry line appears between Dick’s eyebrows.

“I think so.” Nix swallows hard and looks up at the chandelier hanging over his head. The medallion is an intricate web of interlacing vines. “Yeah, I am. It’s--it’s a lot to take in. So much to do.”

“What about her?”

“She’s fine now. She was scared I would be mad at her.”

“Are you?” The look Dick gives him is quizzical; the way he cocks his head reminds Nix of a bird. There’s no accusation there, only curiosity.

“How could I be? I’m the one that did it to her. If I’m angry at anyone, it’s myself.”

The quizzical expression turns to one of concern.

“I mean that I put her in this situation.” He shrugs. “I’m still married to Kathy and Rissy’s having a baby. And I’m the one who put it there.”

“She was there, too.”

“Yeah, she was.”

“I only mean it wasn’t your fault, or hers. It just happened.” The sentiment is kind but debatable. Nix and Rissy are well aware of how children are conceived, and the measures one can take to avoid pregnancy.

Dick grins at him and digs an elbow into Nix’s ribs. The quirk of his lips turns sly and he snickers. Nix blushes again. ‘Cause it was bound to happen sooner or later, right? You can only tempt fate so many times and remain unscathed. He and Rissy were so bad that it became a poorly-kept inside joke. They’d been caught a few times--thankfully only by Dick, and thankfully never on desk or chair…or counter, car, or up against a wall. For God’s sake, the fucking company photographer got them kissing once. Who hadn’t heard him mooning over her when she wasn’t there? You’d have to be blind, deaf, and willfully oblivious _not_ to know what was going on.

So, yeah, Nix has sex with his girl, frequently, enthusiastically, and sometimes loudly. Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. As if any man here wouldn’t do--or hadn’t done--the same damn thing with his own sweetheart if given the opportunity. So let them make fun; it’s alright, because Rissy inexplicably loves him beyond reason. And he’s nuts over her. And neither one of them have ever been exactly hesitant to demonstrate that. Once they finally got around to it.

This afternoon had been no exception. As much as Nix enjoyed the afternoon’s extracurricular activities, putting his insecurities to bed was more satisfying. There will be no more back-and-forth, no more waiting for the other shoe to drop, no more what-if’s. There’s no doubt about they’ll do now. You don’t find this kind of love every day. That part is better than anything that happens in bed or anyplace else they choose to play. Although, it’s not really playing, is it? It hasn’t been that way for a long time, if it ever was. He told her that the first night, didn’t he, that neither one of them was playing? He didn’t know how true that would turn out to be.

The only thing left to do is ask the question.

As per usual, Dick is right. Everything is falling into place. Unconventionally, but neatly enough to make it work.

“You, know, you might be right. We’ll be fine.” He grins at Dick who grins back.

“You’ll be better than fine, Nix. You love her and she loves you. Maybe it’s that simple.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” See, Dick will make a great dad someday. Nobody else could put so much warmth in a one-word answer. “Well, go on, don’t keep her waiting.”

Nix takes the stairs two at a time, going up this time, ignoring everything and everyone else. He flings his door open only to find the bed empty. Rissy hasn’t gone far; the shower is running, she’s singing to herself in there. Nix strips his clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He’ll take her out once they’re cleaned up. It’ll be a date, just the two--three--of them. He’ll find some place quiet with good wine and candles, make it sweet and romantic. Rissy squeals when he pulls the curtain back and joins her under the hot water.

* * *

  
Late that night, sated after good food, good drinks, and yet another round of love, Nix lies next to Rissy in the dark. She is dead asleep, adorable even with her mouth open and hair sticking up every which way. He kisses her bare shoulder and rests his hand on her belly. He wonders if the child inside would be able to hear him. His eyes flick to Rissy’s face before he scoots down the bed. He hesitates and rests his cheek on the curve of her abdomen. The difference is much more apparent when she’s naked. He takes a deep breath and starts whispering through the sheet. He wanted to do this earlier, but he was self-conscious with her watching and listening. It’s easier with Rissy asleep.

“Hi, baby. I’m your daddy.” He feels a bit silly, but that’s alright. “Your mother already loves you so much. You’re so lucky to have her for a mother. She’s going to take such good care of you. She already takes care of me and she does such a good job. And listen, I love you both, so I’ll do the best I can. Do you have any idea how lucky we both are?”

Especially me, he thinks. I spilled whiskey on her shoe and this is what happened. Say all he had to go home to was an empty house when all this is over, he’d have nothing but time and money, a bad combination when you have a liking for alcohol and a propensity for the self-destructive. Nix can imagine a bachelor’s apartment and a string of girls. It’s depressing to think how hollow and empty that would be.

The thought that Rissy might’ve been just as lost without him hurts worse. Nix isn’t so blind that he didn’t see how damaged she’d been when they met. She’s lost the permanently forlorn look sometime in the last year and a half.

Rissy sighs, gives one snore, and cups his head with one warm hand. She doesn’t play with his hair or tug on it--or rake it back from his forehead the way she sometimes does--her fingers rest against his scalp. Her breathing changes and he knows she’s awake. Her fingertips move in little circles.

“What’re you doing, Lew?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I have to pee.”

Rissy’s lodgings aren’t elegant; the shared bathroom is at the end of the hall. Their blankets are plain but warm and Nix’s limbs are heavy, he’s tired but he’s not going to let her go alone. He struggles back into his undershirt and boxers, shivering in the chilled air until he’s dressed. He helps Rissy up and into her robe even though she says she can do it herself. She lifts one foot then the other when he kneels in front of her to put her slippers on her feet. Rissy has to hold on to his shoulder for balance. The bathroom is a dingy sea green and the lightbulb is on its last legs. Nix keeps his back turned to provide a shred of privacy.

She can’t stay here. There has to be a place he can rent, somewhere he can join her on weekends. She’d like that. He’ll make phone calls in the morning. If he has to move out, she can come along and he’ll find her a new place.

The toilet flushes and Rissy appears behind him in the mirror. She washes her hands and dries them on her robe. The towel doesn’t look quite trustworthy.

“Do you need the bathroom?”

“Let’s get you back in bed first. You don’t need to wait for me.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I’d rather be alone if it’s all the same.”

She bites her lip and her eyes sparkle up at him. “Oh, well, in that case, I can go back by myself.”

“I know you can. I’d feel better if you let me help.”

He’s always felt protective of his girl, even though he knows she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. The feeling is magnified ten-fold now. He holds the door for her, patting her bottom when she walks past him. Rissy turns and looks up at him, leaning on the doorjamb.

“Alright, Captain, I’m back in my room, all in one piece.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take your time.” Her nose wrinkles and the dimples show.

He kisses her good-bye, on her temple and cheek and her lips, and then her mouth again.

“You’re only going down the hall, Lew. I’ll still be here when you come back. It’s not like I could run very far in my condition, anyway.”

He rubs her belly and presses his lips to the crown of her head. She pinches him and giggles before she shuts the door.

Nix uses the bathroom, impatient to get back. He’s chilly in nothing but underwear; he’d like to be in the warm bed. He washes his hands, looking at himself in the mirror. It’s late but he doesn’t look tired. That’s not all that surprising, he loves his sleep but he loves it more in the morning. Why exactly is it virtuous to go to bed early and rise with--or horror, before--the sun and decadent to stay up late and sleep in if ends up with the same amount of hours? Nighttime is so much more fun than the day.

He smiles at himself, that same cock-sure grin that made women blush in New York and any other place he happened to be back in the States, and then in Aldbourne, at least until the drippy fall evening he went out for a drink by himself. It’s been the one girl since then and that’s fine. He’s not searching out distractions anymore, although he’d done that a little longer, and that was only out of fear. Nix looks like a man who’s finally satisfied with the trajectory of his life, content to see where it takes him.

Nix whistles Claire de Lune on his way back. He’s quiet about it, after all people, are sleeping. Nix values his own sleep enough to make him careful not to wake anyone else if he doesn’t have to.

* * *

Rissy’s standing in front of the mirror with her back to him, studying her face in the dim light. He can tell her robe is hanging open but he can’t see anything below her collarbone in the reflection. She smiles at him, mouthing ‘hi.’ Her hair is long enough to fall below her bra strap, if she was wearing one. She arches her neck, exposing the pale, vulnerable skin. Her eyes flutter close and her lips part enough to reveal a hint of her teeth.

Nix drops into the chair in his boxers and t-shirt, watching her preen. She’s only doing it for his benefit. He clears his throat. “Come here.”

Rissy crosses the room until she’s standing between his knees. Her unfastened robe leaves the space between her breasts exposed and it opens wider over her belly; what’s between her legs is lost in shadow.

“Let me look at you.” He draws the soft cotton back from her shoulders, it falls to the floor in a puddle at Rissy’s feet.

Nix puts his hands on her stomach, he’s still for a minute, feeling her belly move with her breathing. He bends to kiss her navel and press his cheek to her belly and hug what’s left of her waist. He nuzzles there, dragging his lips over her skin while she stands naked in front of him. Rissy lets him look and touch, lets him move her this way and that so he can see her from any angle he likes. She guides his head to her breasts. His fingers find the fur between her legs. She’s soaking wet.

“Again?”

“I can’t help it.” She flushes and rolls her eyes. “It’s the hormones.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was me.”

“It is you.” Her thumb strokes his cheekbone, her palm is warm on his face. “It’s always you.”

That afternoon, after the first time they had sex, Rissy had blurted out thank God, all she could think about was getting his cock inside her, then she blushed beet red. Nix laughed and told her he was glad to be of service. She blushed even harder when she told him that she’d never wanted it so badly in her life, going without was driving her to distraction. She’d go to bed wishing he was there with her. Nix asked her to tell him about it, he likes to hear her talk. She answered with her face pressed to his shoulder; he could feel the heat in her cheeks. She told him how she’d slip her fingers between her legs and pretend it was his hand until her panties were damp. She missed him, both in and out of bed. Nix said he’d help her any way he could. It is, after all, is duty to keep her happy, isn’t it? And that led to the second time. That all happened in his room. They managed to behave themselves, for the most part, until after dinner. The third time came after that. It seems that there are some perks to pregnancy. Although they can’t continue like this forever; it’ll start to hurt. Once more will be fine, though. He’s missed her, too. This is ridiculous, even for them.

“I suppose I can oblige you. Turn around for me.” Rissy twirls on one foot, laughing. She has a pretty ass, something he doesn’t fail to appreciate. Nix uses his foot to push hers a bit farther apart. She leans forward in an exaggerated pin-up pose to make it easy for him. She moans and arches her back when he reaches for her.

When they’ve finished, Nix carries Rissy back to bed with her knees hooked over his hips. She shivers when he lays her down, the sheets and blankets have grown cold. She stretches and starts to curl on her side. Nix climbs onto the bed and stops her. She looks up at him questioningly.

“Wait, I’m not done.”

“I get more?”

“No, I get more.” He pushes her thighs apart and dips his head between them. She moans and sighs, pulling his hair while he’s busy between her legs. She’s incoherent, he can’t understand anything but his name. She loves it when he does this after. Or before. Or any time at all. He kisses her when he’s finished, pushing his tongue into her mouth, taking his time with it.

“How’d you get such a talented mouth?”

“Do you really want an answer to that question?”

She shakes her head, kisses the tip of his nose.

“Tell you what, though. I’m willing to keep practicing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He yawns. “Are you satisfied now?”

“For the time being.” Rissy yawns, too. “You know what, though?”

“What’s that, honey?”

“We don’t have to worry about condoms anymore. Or keeping track of dates.”

Nix laughs. “Very funny, miss. You’ve tired me out. Let’s get some sleep.” He shuts his eyes. “I haven’t had sex this many times in one day since…never mind.”

“London,” she answers. “That was in London. If we do it again in the morning, it’ll be five in one twenty-four hour period.”

“We’re ridiculous, do you know that?”

“I love that.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining, it’s merely an observation.” Nix yawns widely. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I plan on it. You’ll like it, though.”

“I’m sure I will. Now close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Rissy rolls on her side and this time Nix doesn’t stop her. She’s tired; she needs her rest. Her back might be to him, but she’s pressed to his flank from shoulder to hip. Nix threads his arm under to trace circles on her belly. Rissy sighs and rolls to face him. She throws one of her legs over his, her arms slips around his waist, and her head settles on his shoulder, and then she’s asleep. For a very short while, he listens to her breathe in the dark. He wonders if what he feels under his hand is their baby or just Rissy herself--if anything about her is ‘just’ or ‘only’ to him.

No sleeping with their backs to each other, not with her. (And later, when that does happen, intentionally or not, some part of her is always touching some part of him, or vice versa. She might be angry, or he might be, but they were never cold. Rissy would say they both run too warm for that to be possible.)

* * *

Nix sleeps better than he has in months. He wakes before Rissy does, gropes on the floor for his trousers, and pulls something out of the pocket when he finally succeeds in finding them. He opens the small blue velvet box with one hand; what’s inside sparkles even in the half-light. Rissy stirs and he tucks it under the pillow. He should get up. For one, he has to get back, and more importantly, he has phone calls to make. It’s time to ask the question, now he needs a place. There are a thousand reasons to get up and one to stay in the bed.

Rissy opens her eyes and smiles at him, and he decides he can put off the day for a few more minutes. That one reason outranks all the others.


End file.
